


The King Who Lost

by FascinateMe



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Red Wedding, Epic, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-10 07:51:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FascinateMe/pseuds/FascinateMe
Summary: Robb has survived the Red Wedding, barely.





	1. Robb I

**Robb**

The Great Hall of the Twins was roaring with the noise of drunken Northmen and the screeching music of the band. Robb’s head was pounding with every beat of the drums. His head was spared any further harassment when the Lord of the Crossing raised his hands for silence.

     “Your Grace,” said the old man, his thin lips flapping open and shut,” the septon has prayed his prayers, some words have been spoken, and Lord Edmure has wrapped my sweetling in a fish cloak, but they are not yet man and wife.”

Walder Frey turned to face where Lord Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey sat on the raised dais. Robb could see tears flowing freely from Roslin’s big brown eyes. _She's been crying all night_ , Robb thought.

   Walder Frey continued with a smile,” A sword needs a sheath and a wedding needs a bedding! What does my sire say? Is it meet that we bed them?”

Robb pushed his chair back and stood up, he was ready for this night to end,” If you think the time is meet, Lord Walder, then by all means let us bed them.” As soon as he said the words a chorus rang out from the crowd.

 _Bed them! Bed them! BED THEM!_ The festive guests soon swarm around the Lord of Riverrun and his lady wife, men for Roslin and women for Edmure. From his seat, he could hear Marq Piper making ribald jests to Roslin as the men hoisted her up. Robb pushed his seat in and went to join the men taking Roslin to her marriage bed. _She's still crying, poor thing_.

 Robb thought back to his wedding. Compared to his uncle's wedding, his was a dull event. He had just learned of Bran and Rickon's death at the hands of the turncloak, Theon Greyjoy. _I was in so much pain_ , Robb thought. His brothers’ deaths had hurt worse than the quarrel he had taken in his shoulder. He was in so much pain and the milk of the poppy made him so confused and Jeyne had been so beautiful in the twilight. He married her the following morning. He had forsaken his honor that night.

He exited the Great Hall with the other northern men. As they reached the stairs to carry Roslin to her marriage bed he felt a small tug on his cloak. He turned around to see one of his men breathing heavily, red faced from running.

 “Sorry to bother you my lord but I have an urgent message for you.”

Robb turned around to see that the party carrying Roslin had left without him.

 “Say what you will, soldier,” said Robb.

“A man is at the gates claiming to have the Princess Arya.”

Robb looked at him,” Where is she?”

“On a cart at the gates. She's with a very tall cloaked man in mail.”

“Thank you ser. Please take this message to my lady mother in the Great Hall.”

The man bowed and went. Robb started his way toward the gates. His sister was near.


	2. Arya I

**Arya**

Arya picked at a hangnail. While she and the Hound waited, huddled under cloaks to repel the rains, the tents of feasting Northmen were loud with the sounds of laughter and music.  _If you could call that music_ , she thought. 

“Why don’t we go inside,” she said. They knew Robb and her mother.were inside the tall twin towers but the Hound had insisted that they wait outside.

“I’m not going in there,” he said, the rasp in his voice pronounced,” I don’t trust the fucking Freys. Neither should you, if you want to keep your head on your shoulders.”  

 He shut down as he was like to do. Arya sat up and surveyed the grounds. Men strolling between the tents, she could see the flayed man of House Bolton on many of the men walking between the tents. The Hound grabbed the back of neck, not unkindly. He pointed to a tall man garbed in the whites and greys of her house with thick auburn hair, wet and clinging to the iron and bronze crown on his head. Pulling away from the Hound’s grip, she ran to the man that was her brother. The Hound called out for her but she didn’t hear. Robb pushed her away with confusion, searching her face.

“Robb, it's me, Arya,” said Arya pulling down the hood of her cloak so he could see her face clearly.

“Gods, Arya,” said Robb smiling incredulously,” We thought you were dead, _I_ thought you were dead. How did you survive?”

“Yoren took me from King’s Landing but he died,” the words came spilling out of her mouth, she wanted to tell Robb everything that happened to her.

“Yoren?,” said Robb,” you'll have to tell me-,” he was interrupted by a long, piercing cry. _A wolf's howl_ , thought Arya. Robb turned around and Arya could see the tents of the Northmen up in flames.

“Why are they firing on your bannermen, Robb,” asked Arya. She could see Bolton men firing crossbow bolts at Northmen that had escaped the tents. The Hound came and grabbed her by the wrist.

“We need to go,” he said. She knew the fires must frighten him. She pulled her wrist away.

 “No,” she said,” I’m not leaving Robb.”

Robb bent down and looked at her,” Go Arya, tell the man that brought you to take you to Riverrun, Uncle Brynden will protect you. I need to go get mother.”

“He doesn’t know what I look like,” said Arya, she wasn’t going to leave her brother, not now,” I can fight now Robb. I can help.”

Robb pulled the bronze and iron crown from his head and handed it to her.

“Show this to the guards, they’ll know you for mine.” He pushed her hard. The Hound grabbed her wrist again, this time forcefully.

“Please ser,” said Robb,” get her safely to Riverrun and my uncle will reward you.”

And with that, Robb was gone. The Hound bent down and grabbed her waist and put her on Stranger’s back. She kicked and screamed over and over for her brother and resisted as The Hound tried to get on the saddle with her.

“If you don’t stop, I’ll have to knock you out,” she had knocked of the hood of his cloak and could see his burned face deep in a frown.

“I’m not leaving without Robb and Mother,” she screamed at him. She was so close, but the Twins were fading from view with each stride of Stranger’s legs. _No_ , thought Arya. She threw her elbow as hard as she could into the Hound’s throat and jumped off Stranger. She hit the ground. _Every hurt is a lesson_. She jumped up and ran towards the Twins, fingers fumbling for the knife at her waist. She could hear the Hound cursing her and calling her. She ignored him.

The Twins were still in turmoil and fire and death rang in the air. She searched the yard for her,brother finding the white of his garb bright in fires. He had his sword stiff in front of him, two Boltons had his back pinned to a burning tent. She could see he had taken a quarrel in his left shoulder. _Quiet as a mouse._  She crept slowly towards them.

“Put down your sword, my lord,” the left Bolton said, he lowered his sword as a gesture of goodwill,” we'll take you into the Twins and have the maester look at that wound.”

“Take me in and never allow me to leave, “ said Robb. He looked at the other Bolton man, his sword was still raised. No one seemed to hear her creep closer, her knife poised. She saw her opening. She thrust the knife into the back of the left Bolton’s leg, he screamed and fell to the ground fumbling for his fallen sword. She thrust the knife into his face and heard his screams stop. Her fingers sticky with his blood.

“You bastard boy!” The remaining Bolton went to raise his sword. Arya tried to pull the knife from the dead soldiers face but found it hard to pull. The sword came down but was sent flying along the soldiers hand. With another swing of his ax the Hound took off the man's head.

“Dumb bitch,” said the Hound,” were you trying to get us killed?”

Robb had collapsed on the ground, his cape smoldering. With horror, Arya pulled her brother away from the burning tent.

“We have to take him with us,” said Arya. The Hound bent down and broke the quarrel coming from Robb’s shoulder but didn't pull it out.

“Grab his legs, girl,” said the Hound. They carried him and put him in the back of the wayn. “ Put your cloak over him, We don't need him seen.”

Arya unfastened her cloak and threw it on her brother's wet and wounded body.

“Sit in the cart or get on Stranger with me. It makes no difference.”

Arya look at him,” I'm not leaving without Mother.” She turned to look at the Twins.

“Not again, your mother's dead and your brother's dying,” said the Hound,” If you go after her, you'll be dead too. Maybe Frey will let you kiss your mother's corpse.”

“Maybe we can _save_ her…” She hadn't heard him get behind her.

His ax took her in the back of the head.


	3. Catelyn I

**Catelyn**

“He's most likely dead, Lord Father,” said Ser Stevron. He stepped carefully around the bleeding lump that was Walder Frey’s lackwit grandson Jinglebell. Lord Walder threw his half-full wine cup at his firstborn’s head hitting him. He fell over Jinglebell's body.

 “Does it look like I was born yesterday,” the Lord of the Crossing asked,” there'll be no southron alliance until I present Lord Tywin his wolf pelts. Go out and bring me Robb Stark’s body.”

Ser Stevron gathered a small group of Freys and left. Black Walder pulled at her hair to try and get her to move towards the dias to no avail. _I can't_ , she thought. She had no will to move anymore so Black Walder dragged her towards Walder Frey.

“What will we do with her,” he said,” should we kill her?”

The Lord of the Crossing looked down at her and smiled his horrific smile,” No, I think. Take her back to her room and guard the door. Have a maester see to her wounds. We wouldn't want her die on her brother's wedding night, _heh._ ”

She started crying again, her tears making her wounds burn. Her face still hurt from where she had raked the skin from her cheeks. _Please kill me_ , she thought to herself, _let me rest_ . A guard picked her up like one would pick up a doll and carried her. She still had the knife in her bloody hands. _I should fight_ , she thought. Instead she brought the blade to her throat. The man was at her before she could finish and yanked it away with little struggle. The blade had only sliced open a finger but she couldn't feel it. Her hands were so stiff.

  _They weren't always stiff_ , Catelyn remembered. The Lannister catspaw sent to kill Bran had done this to her hands. The hands that had cradled her children. _All dead_ , Catelyn thought. Bran and Rickon slain in Winterfell. Arya dead along with Ned. Now Robb, more than likely dead. _I should be dead_.

She didn't remember falling asleep but when she woke up she was back in her room the Freys had given her. The cut on her finger was wrapped up in clean linens, the quarrel taken from her back and the wound wrapped  and her face had been cleaned. A mirror showed the scabs that took up the lower part of her face. _Loo_ _k at me now, Ned._

 Someone had left a bowl of porridge on the small stone table by the window slit. _My things_ , she thought. They had taken the chests she had brought from Riverrun leaving the room barren. _I'm truly in a prison._ She had known the risks of Robb’s Rebellion, she had accepted the fact that she might die, but what the Freys did was unthinkable. Flashes of the night before came to her. Ser Wyman Manderly’s mouth opening from the quarrel. Dacey Mormont’s body on the floor being trampled by men scampering for safety. There was one body that wasn't in the Hall. _Where were you Robb?_

She wasn't hungry. She put the bowl through the window slit. The pain in her back forced her into the bed. Beside the bed was a vial with a little bit of a milky white substance. She drained it eagerly, wishing it contained enough to end her suffering.

She was awakened by a loud cheering coming below her room. Dread filled her. _No, Mother have mercy, please._ She sat up in the bed staring at the door, waiting. Soon the cheering subsided. She wondered what the cheering was for. _Please, not Robb._

After what seemed like hours the door opened. Torchlight flooded the dark room as Ser Rymund Frey and Edwyn Frey entered.

“My lady,” said Ser Rymund,” we have your son. He is dead.”

She was unsurprised but yet the grief came to her face. Tears started flowing. _My son._ Edwyn Frey came close to her.

“I told you she would cry, weak bitch,” he chuckled at her. She could see where his lip was healing where she broke it. She slapped him with what strength the gods had left her. His lip broke open anew. He staggered back in pain. She laughed at him, like he had at her pain, the scabs on her face breaking open from the strain of her laughter. Her laughs were cut when he punched her in the stomach, sending her curled and gasping back into her bed. He would've continued hitting her but Ser Rymund held his arm. Edwyn pulled away and left the room.

“Bring him in,” commanded Ser Rymund.

Catelyn looked up from her position in the bed to see two guards struggle to hoist a massive body into the room. The light in the room prevented her from fully seeing who the man was but something wasn't right with his head. _It's too big for his body_ , she thought. It wasn't until the men dropped the figure in the corner of her room and Ser Rymund fixed the torch into the wall that she saw it. A wolf's head. _No, Grey Wind’s._ She noticed the armor the body wore _._ She screamed.

“Rest well, my lady,” said Ser Rymund,” and enjoy Lord Walder’s compensation for your missing chests.”

She screamed until her voice gave out and her lips were cracked and dry. Her back screamed in protest but she forced her way towards her son's body. She could see where they had haphazardly sewn Grey Wind’s head to her son's body. _My boy, my first,_ she lamented. She cradled it until sleep found her.

The torch had burned out but the morning sun made her son's body visible. Flies were buzzing about them. She pulled herself away from her son's mutilated corpse, her hands sticky with his blood. Her clothes were a bloody mess as well. She pulled them off and moved away from Robb.

 _Where is his crown,_  she wondered. No doubt Walder had taken it as a trophy of his treachery. She stared longer at the corpse. They would've had to put his armor on after the killed him for Robb was wearing his finest garb for Edmure’s wedding. She tipped the body so that it fell face towards the floor. She unfastened the breastplate as fast as her stiff hands would allow. She heaved it away from her and looked down at the exposed back of the corpse. She traced her fingers around the smooth skin around his left shoulder.

She would have laughed if her throat wasn't so dry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long! I just recovered from a nasty cold that had me feeling like total crap. I didn't really feel like doing anything but die until I got better. I hope this chapter makes up for it. I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible


End file.
